


The Loudness of My Own Hurts

by Ithinkwehaveanemergency



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Brightmel, Canon-Typical Violence, Coming Out, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Light Angst, M/M, Pining, Pre-Slash, Serial Killers, thats the ship name
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-12
Updated: 2019-11-12
Packaged: 2021-01-29 05:55:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21405286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ithinkwehaveanemergency/pseuds/Ithinkwehaveanemergency
Summary: Malcolm's eyes twinkle with a fond playfulness that JT always hates seeing directed at himself.  He also hates that the reason he's so upset when it's directed at him is that he's seen Malcolm give the same look to Dani, and Edrisa, and hell… even some of the people in the precinct JT's never even spoken to.AKAThe one where JT's thoughts are conflicted as he ends up playing pretend lovers with Malcolm for one of the profiler's ridiculous plans.
Relationships: Malcolm Bright/JT Tarmel
Comments: 33
Kudos: 224





	The Loudness of My Own Hurts

**Author's Note:**

> This is a bit pointless and OOC, but I need content of this pairing. So here we go.

Malcolm Bright has the worst ideas.

Really they're terrible, and JT doesn't know why everyone always decides to go along with them.

Like the time that he put himself in harm's way, or the other time he put himself  _ directly  _ in harm's way.

Or especially that one time he used himself as  _ actual serial killer bait _ to lure out a strong, trained dangerous man knowing that the man would be gunning for him.  _ Literally _ .

JT was so worried the entire time, and he knew that Malcolm and his intense observation skills would see the relief all over his face so he couldn't even look at Malcolm after they'd caught the killer and everything went exactly to plan.

Okay, so that's why everyone always goes along with Malcolm Bright's plans.

Because they work.

But this one is where JT should have drawn the line.

"Loosen up." Malcolm leans in close and shakes JT from his musing. "You're staring too hard at the crowd. You look like you're looking for someone."

"I  _ am _ looking for someone, Bright." JT growls with his teeth clenched.

"Yeah, well, you've also supposed to be  _ acting _ like you're with me, babe, not scanning the crowd for potential murderers." Malcolm hisses through a smile. He turns and sips his club soda.

JT rolls his eyes, regretting everything about this so-called undercover sting to find the budding serial killer who they had concluded was a frequent patron of the hottest gay bar in town.

"Maybe,  _ babe _ , I'm acting like the guy I'm with is getting on my last nerve…" JT flicks his eyes over to Malcolm, who stares right back at him, stare stubborn and challenging. "So I'm just weighing my options for someone else to go home with, instead."

Malcolm's eyes twinkle with a fond playfulness that JT always hates seeing directed at himself. He  _ also _ hates that the reason he's so upset when it's directed at him is that he's seen Malcolm give the same look to Dani, and Edrisa, and hell… even some of the people in the precinct JT's never even spoken to.

"Touche."

Just as Malcolm is about to say something else, a fairly buff man, in his mid forties probably, bumps into the short brunette's arm in a way that had to be deliberate, spilling his alcohol-free cocktail all over the bar and the floor.

"Oh my god. I'm  _ so _ sorry. Did I get you?" The salt and pepper haired man asks Malcolm, reaching out to brush nonexistent stray droplets off his chest. JT clenches his teeth at the sight of Malcolm sucking a breath in and curving away from the touch. The man doesn't see the sign of rejection at his not-so-subtle advances. "Here, let me buy you a new drink. It's the least I can do."

"He doesn't need another drink." JT speaks firmly, voice loud even above the music. He pulls Malcolm back into his chest by a protective arm around his ribcage. Bright doesn't protest, but seemingly sinks back into JT's hold as if it were the most natural thing in the world to do. JT glares down at the muscular, admittedly very attractive man. "Sorry, man. Try that move somewhere else."

The ken-doll-looking guy smiles tightly and then walks away into the crowd.

"Oh so  _ now _ you wanna stick to the plan." Malcolm teases, turning his neck and tilting his head up. "Shoulda pegged you as the possessive type."

"Shut up, Bright. It was a pick up move. We don't have time for that shit." JT huffs. He doesn't let go of Malcolm, though. "Just keep an eye out for this Andrew character so we can get the hell outta here already. I hate these types of places."

He feels Malcolm go rigid and step out of his grasp. When JT looks down at the shorter man, he's met with pursed lips and hard eyes.

"You mean gay bars?" Malcolm arches a brow and JT can feel the insult and judgement rolling off the man's words.

He huffs and rolls his eyes at Malcolm's arrogance. JT had wondered for the past couple months, and then eveb more so when this sting idea was suggested, if Malcolm was good enough a profiler that he figured JT out or not. Not that JT was hiding, but he was a very private man about his life, and hadn't dated seriously in years.

"Seedy clubs." JT grunts. His chest feels cold without the smaller man pressed to it so he crosses them, continuing his perusal of the club, focusing on the profile of the killer Bright had given them. "I've done my fair share of time in gay bars, Bright. Nice ones, with less obnoxious music. Where couples don't get pulled for threesome propositions by moderately attractive, closeted, fitness obsessed, 35 year old tech company business execs with a screw loose, before being elaborately murdered in an outrageously expensive hotel room."

"Oh."

JT doesn't look down at Bright's face to gather his reaction, too distracted by the man who just walked in with designer shoes and a very nice watch. Instead, JT turns in toward Bright, crowding him and leaning down to whisper in his ear, something that could look seductive or possibly romantic to an outsider.

"Your ten." JT speaks clearly, slowly, his lips almost pressed to Bright's ear. "That our guy?"

"Probably, yes. I can't be sure in this light." Malcolm responds, his words breathy and distracting. He leans into JT, their skin touching in places it never has before, pleasant and distracting. "So, gay bars, huh?"

"Can we focus, Bright?" JT growls into his ear and puts half a foot of space between them but putting seemingly possessive hands on Malcolm's slim, jean clad hips.

"Oh. Oh, yep. Definitely see it now." The wide eyed man exhales heavily and bites his lip. "That's cool. Like… super cool."

JT rolls his eyes for what feels like the hundredth time just tonight.

"I know, I know." Malcolm snorts, running his hands up JT's biceps while casually looking in the potential serial killer's direction. "I've got eyes on our guy. It's definitely him. He counted the exits three times before he even scanned the crowd for prospects."

The shorter man is suddenly plastered against JT's arm, lacing the fingers on their right hands together. JT feels hot, plush lips against his jaw, right next to his ear.

"Guess we should put on a show then."

JT sees the suspicious man out of the corner of his eye, and notices they've definitely caught his attention already.

"You always have the worst ideas, Bright." JT mumbles, low enough that the other man probably isn't able to hear him, and lets Malcolm lead him toward the dance floor.

*****

The problem with Malcolm Bright's ideas isn't that they don't work.

It's that they do.

As soon as they'd been approached and propositioned by the wealthy, well-dressed man, JT had known that Malcolm would do just about anything to make sure they got this guy.

Unfortunately, that ended up meaning that when their prep knocked down JT and made a run for it, Malcolm immediately started running after the guy. JT got up and followed cautiously, pulling his weapon as he rounded a corner down the back of the alley. He found Malcolm at distant gunpoint with his hands in the air, trying to talk down the now confirmed killer.

What followed was a blur, but JT remembers instinctively tackling his smaller teammate at the movement of the other man's gun and then firing a crippling shot back.

And now, a few hours later, JT finds himself sitting on one of the triage beds of the local ER, finally ready to get home.

JT is gingerly pulling on his T-shirt as Malcolm walks into the large emergency section of the hospital and immediately finds him sitting on the 2nd bed, mostly re-dressed.

"All patched up already, hero?" Bright raises his eyebrows in disbelief, hands jammed into the pockets of his almost too-tight pants.

Mostly, JT is thrilled that the young profiler is no longer only in a snug white v-neck and skinny jeans, but Malcolm looks somehow more attractive in his slimfit zip up hoodie standard suit jacket on top.

JT curses his brain for replaying the way Bright had moved, acting eager and shy at the same time as they successfully lured their killer into a trap.

"Are you sure you sure you should be checking out so soon?"

"Not my first time getting shot, Bright." JT purses his lips in annoyance, but as usual, he gets a strange feeling in his stomach at the way Malcolm looks at him with genuine worry in his expressive sky blue eyes.

"Yeah, well, I wish you weren't so comfortable with it."

JT freezes as he finishes buttoning his only  _ slightly _ bloody dress shirt. The undershirt had been lost to a pair of scissors, wielded by the EMS person who had helped out with the gunshot wound on site.

What he really wants is to ignore is nuisance of a coworker and get home. He wants to give his best attempt at a hot shower and then crawl into his giant, empty, California King bed that takes up essentially his entire room.

But instead he stares down the perpetually tired, skinny, filterless profiler blocking his exit.

"I'm not  _ comfortable _ with it, I was just doing what I was trained to do." JT growls out, advancing on his teammate. "I'm not the one who throws himself into  _ any sign of danger _ he encounters. I'm not the one  _ constantly _ ,  _ recklessly, stupidly _ risking his life to an end that isn't worth the means! That's you, man. You're the one constantly making your friends and family terrified for your safety. You're the one who causes people to worry themselves sick when you run off, unarmed, without backup, after a guy with a  _ fucking gun _ , Malcolm."

JT stops short, sucking in a breath when he realizes how emotional he'd become as he got in Malcolm's now-anguished face.

"You're right." Malcolm whispers instantly. His eyes shut and his brow furrows.

"Whatever." JT backs up and runs a hand across his face. He shakes his head tiredly. "I'm outta here."

"Do  _ you _ ?" Malcolm says softly, opening his eyes and looking up at JT curiously.

"Do I  _ what,  _ Bright?" JT sighs, avoiding the other man's red eyes and grabbing his personal effects bag and getting ready to walk out.

"Worry." Malcolm answers. He takes a slow, tentative step toward JT, who wants nothing more than to ignore him and walk away. But he doesn't, so Malcolm steps closer still. "Do  _ you _ worry about me?"

JT sighs, still annoyed, but he can't help the way this awkward, ridiculous man has grown on him and burrowed his way into his heart

"Yeah, Bright. I worry." JT nods in confirmation and then brushes past him, heading for the hospital exit. He's stopped by comfortably warm, gentle fingers on his wrist as he tries to walk away. He doesn't flinch away, but just barely. Instead he tenses and speaks tersely. "Bright, c'mon, I'm tired, man. Just let me-"

"I'm sorry." Malcolm interrupts him, squeezing the fingers around JT's wrist. His soft voice cracks around the apology and JT deflates a bit at the sincerity. "And  _ thank you. _ For saving my life."

JT swallows down the lump in his throat and nods again. Malcolm releases him and tries an awkward smile before shoving his hands in his coat pockets.

"I've got a car outside. My mother sent it because… she's one of those people you were referring to." Malcolm huffs out a self deprecating laugh. "Do you want a ride back to your car?"

JT shrugs. He's said more than he wanted to say for one day. Each new word he utters might be the one that finally does him in, makes him reveal just how much he really cares about the infuriating mess of a man.

But despite his frustration and exhaustion, he can't help but take the opportunity to spend another few minutes knowing,  _ firsthand _ , that Malcolm Bright is okay, and that he's survived another one of his own brilliant, horrible ideas.

So he nods.

"Okay." Malcolm says, and leads the way.


End file.
